


When a cowboy trades his spurs for wings

by chickxfisher



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur morgan has tuberculosis, Blood and Gore, Crying, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Heartbreak, Injury, Loss of love, M/M, Sad, Violence, dying confession, graphic description of death, im really not, im sorry but im not, im sorry y'all, loss of lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickxfisher/pseuds/chickxfisher
Summary: John looks back a little too far





	When a cowboy trades his spurs for wings

_"Go. Go to your family and be a goddamn man!"_

If words could kill, John would be dead, but he isn't. Arthur is, and John feels somewhat responsible for that. Leaving his brother like that didn't feel right, not even making the second thought of going back made him feel so unbelievably guilty. Trekking down the mountain as he clutched his shoulder, looking back up to the peak he grunted. The cold air getting to his wound and the sound of gunfire filling his ears would be a usual thing, but this was such an unfamiliar feeling, his whole life he had been by Arthurs side and now he was just going to run away, like a coward. 

"Ah, fuck." He swore, gripping his fist tightly he stormed back up the mountain, following the slippery path Arthur went down he searched, "Arthur!" He called, looking around frantically before stopping and running towards him. "You rat!" He cursed, launching himself into Micah, pushing him to the ground into a tumble, prying himself off he scurried upwards and grabbed his revolver, pointing it to Micah. "John-" Arthur groaned, rolling to his side as he coughed, chunks of blood and lung falling out of his mouth. "You shouldn't.." he breathed, pressing himself up with one arm. "Shouldn't have come back."

"Blacklungs right Marston. You shouldn't have." Micah groomed, laughing lightly. "John. Go to you- your family." Arthur begged, laying against the rock as he regained his strength. John was shaking, his shoulder and the frosty air sinking into his skin as he panicked. Looking back and forth between Arthur and Micah he felt his hands slowly drop. Being thrown against the rock wall he felt his back snap, bone and bullet splintering in his shoulders he crumbled, blood leaking further down his arm before Micah kicked him in the knee, laughing before he kicked Arthur over onto his side more, rolling him lightly. "Micah! Enough." Dutch called, walking out to him he stood with his arms crossed.

John cringed through his teeth, his shoulder throbbing with pain as he trembled. No longer feeling the pain in his arm, his body instead aching as blood dripped out onto his hand. "How could you boys? After all, I've DONE for you." Dutch cursed, "It is over, now." He looked down at the two, his eyes cold and empty. "Ohh-" Arthur grunted, breathing heavy, "He's a rat. You know it. I know it." he wheezed, coughing into the air as blood dripped from his lips and nose. "Come on Dutch" Micah smiled, grabbing John he stole the hat he donned from Arthur. "You won't be needing this anymore." He grinned, putting it on. "I gave you all I had... I did, we both did." Morgan wheezed as John grunted in response, trying to move but only collapsed down.

His entire body was shaking. His eyes were heavy with tears and his hands were blistered, old and worn down from the years of branding weapons and the roughage. "We can make it. We can make it." Micah grinned, pleading as he begged Dutch to follow, Looking up to see his face sink, swallowing heavily he slowly stepped away, looking to Micah as panic slowly filled his eyes, stepping away from the two. "Come on Dutch. Come on!" Micah waved his arms, his voice going hoarse. Dutch quickly glanced at his two sons, observing them.

Arthur, blood pooling from his nose and mouth as he coughed, chunks of blood decorating his mouth as his face worn a sombre, unspoken sadness. Hands trembling on his chest he ran cold. John, clutching his arm as he cried lightly, the visible dent in his back and dark bloodstains on his coat and vest as he breathed sharply he tumbled to his side, doing the best he could to reach Arthur. "Come on!" Micah yelled before Dutch left the bloody scene, leaving the three desperate for a way out as the army of Pinkertons strayed at the bottom of the mountain. Micah groaned like a dog, swearing before he kicked John in the shoulder. The steel toe tip of his boot digging into the wound as John yelled in pain.

Arthur breathed hard, readying himself he grabbed Micah's leg, pulling him to the ground best he could before Micah retaliated, kicking him off he jumped over to Morgan, punching him as he grabbed his shirt collar, choking him. "You still got some fight in ya huh black lung?!" He smiled, beating Arthur's face in as blood spat on his fist. "St.. stop." John croaked, clicking the hammer on his revolver he pointed it to Micah, arm shaking heavily. Seeing this as an opportunity, Arthur grabbed Micah's shirt and the hat he had stolen before turning over and throwing him off the mountain.

Falling like a rock Micah screamed, cursing before he hit the rocky bedside of the mountain with a pool of blood to follow. Wheezing, Arthur rolled to his side, facing John who collapsed, breathing heavily as they both climbed over to each other. "You're a fool Marston.." He laughed, placing his hat on Johns' head once again as they both smiled. Rolling onto their backs they felt the sun slowly rise, the warmth rushing over their cold and bruised bodies. The stars slowly fading as the sky turned a warm colour. "Why did you come back?" Arthur bled, his eyes lazily turning to John.

"If I were to tell ya, you'd probably kill me yourself." John laughed heavy, coughing as his pain grew deeper. Feeling his hand move he looked down to see it intertwine with Arthurs, in a dying moment's bliss, this was his happiness. "The truth is, I love you, and I ain't sure what-" He grunted, shifting closer to Arthur. "What those words mean now." He cried, slow and faint tears trickling down his cheek as he felt his strength leave his body. Looking into the cold eyes of his lover as once their blue shade had faded, a light warm glow of not only the sun coloured his pale sickly face.

"I love you too." He wheezed and choked, body tensing up before his head rolled backwards as John laid there motionless, living moments without Arthur was hell on earth, but staring into the eyes of a once brother hurt him more than any wound could as he slipped into the cold icy grasp of death with his final breath being the warm air of the sun as he bled out on the mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a whim. i deserve death. also please check out my other fic "Watch out for yellow eyes" ! That ones alot better trust me


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